


I'll Be Your (Anything You Want)

by viridiangold



Series: The Heart of a Bitch [1]
Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst and Porn, Crying, Cuckolding, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exhibitionism, F/F, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Heavy Angst, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Light Sadism, Multi, OT4, Plant Rape, Polyamory, Pre-OT3, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unrequited Love, Verbal Humiliation, any younger and it's kind of upsetting to write, boscha just needs to be loved and redeemed okay, my characters will ALWAYS be AT LEAST 16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:53:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25970896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viridiangold/pseuds/viridiangold
Summary: Luz is a loyal friend. She would do anything to help those whom she loves, even let herself be assaulted. She would even pretend to be okay to make sure no one worries.Amity has a devastating crush. Her worst fear is for someone to reveal it. Actually, her worst fear is for something terrible to happen to her crush in front of her.Willow is the most supportive friend anyone could want. But maybe she ought to tone down the viciousness brewing in her vengeful little heart.And Boscha? Well. Boscha's just a bitch. Let's hope a redemption arc hits her over the head and knocks some sense into her.
Relationships: Amity Blight/Boscha, Amity Blight/Luz Noceda, Amity Blight/Willow Park, Boscha/Luz Noceda, Boscha/Willow Park, Luz Noceda/Willow Park
Series: The Heart of a Bitch [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889950
Comments: 82
Kudos: 315





	1. Luz

“I’ll take her place,” Luz declares. “I’ll do it, Boscha. I’ll be your… anything you want.”

Boscha narrows all three of her eyes and smirks, challenging the stupid, stupid human. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Luz promises. “Water gopher, target practice, whatever you need me to do.”

For a moment, Boscha fake-pouts. “Aw, Luz, you’re such a good friend.”

Luz waits, jaw and fists clenched, for the other shoe to drop.

“Too bad those good intentions won’t save you from what I’m going to do to you.”

Luz glances at the stands, where Amity clutches the railings anxiously. She gives her friend a reassuring smile. Amity doesn’t smile back. 

Due to this temporary distraction, she doesn’t notice that Boscha has advanced across the court to stand right before her. 

“Get down on your knees, loser,” she sneers. 

Luz raises her hands in warning. “Boscha, don’t take this too far—”

“What? You want me to go back to picking on Willow again?” Boscha demands. “You want me to follow her around all day and dump trash on her? It’s only going to get worse from here on out, you know… unless you… bright, sweet, loyal little human girl… do something about it.”

Luz slowly sinks to the ground, gritting her teeth.

“Yeah,” Boscha smiles, voice dripping with saccharine approval. “That’s more like it.”

Luz stares at the ground.

“Kiss my feet,” Boscha says, and stamps a sneaker-clad foot down imperiously in front of Luz, whose entire face colors.

“ _ Excuse me _ ? What is  _ wrong _ with you?”

“Do it, bitch,” Boscha snaps. “Unless you want me to get Amity over here instead, that fucking traitor.”

Luz bends forward reluctantly, pressing her lips together to barely brush over Boscha’s ankle. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Amity begin to run frantically down towards her.

“Stop looking at her,” Boscha demands. “Kiss higher.”

Luz obediently trails her lips up the witch’s warm, bare calf, waiting for Amity to come rescue her. 

“Higher.”

She surreptitiously rolls her eyes at Boscha’s domineering voice but obliges, nudging her head up Boscha’s thigh until her mouth meets the edge of her sports shorts. Before Luz can withdraw her head and ask, “Now what,” her vision is muffled by the aforementioned shorts splashing down over her head.  _ What _ .

A hand forcefully yanks her out by the nape of her neck. 

“Higher,” says Boscha, voice dripping with complacent victory.

“You  _ can’t _ be serious,” Luz says, trying not to look at the newly exposed flesh. “ _ No way _ .”

“What? Are you shy because of Amity and my friends?”

“No! Yes!” Luz shouts, conflicted. “You can’t ask me to do this! It’s not right!”

Boscha nods over her shoulder. “I’ve got Amity lined up right over there. I bet she wouldn’t complain about what she’s already had.”

Looking between Boscha’s legs, Luz sees Amity struggling against three of Boscha’s cronies. Even though Skara is bumbling around and apologizing to her over and over, she refuses to let go. Something in Luz plummets, and she’s not really sure why. “Amity wouldn’t do that. Not with you.”

“I’ll make her lick me right here, right now, and you can watch,” Boscha threatens. “Unless you’d be a  _ good friend _ and take her place too?”

She bats her eyelashes at Luz. It seems as if she has no choice. 

Slowly, tentatively, she closes her eyes and purses her lips as if for a kiss, leaning forward and upward. She clutches Boscha’s soft legs for balance when her lips meet warm, slick flesh. Carefully, hesitantly, Luz darts out the tip of her tongue to taste. It’s not so bad. In fact, she’s thought about going down on a witch before, just not… Boscha the bully.

Thighs squish her head uncomfortably tight, and a manicured hand reaches down to fondle her ears, tracing their round shape and flickering around her equally round earrings.  _ Oh _ . 

“Harder,” she hears Boscha encourage faintly.

Tears spring to her eyes. Luz tries not to think too hard about what she’s doing, choosing instead to think about Amity, her dearest friend, whose beautiful, pure mouth she is actively choosing to save by humoring Boscha in her stead. Amity deserves better than Boscha.

Luz spends a while thinking and licking, her face growing unbearably wet and messy, before Boscha finally sighs, grinds down on her face so hard Luz is afraid she’ll get knocked over, and finally backs off. 

“Am I done here?” Luz manages to ask, wiping off her face with her wrist. 

“Not yet,” Boscha smirks. “I still need to torture the traitor a bit.”

A jolt of fury slams through Luz. “You said you’d leave her alone if I did what you asked!”

“I said nothing like that,” Boscha scoffs. “But I’m not going to do anything to her… not physically.”

“What do you—”

Luz yelps when Boscha pounces on her and thrusts her hand down her shorts in one fluid motion. As she falls pinned to the ground, she barely registers Amity restrained in front of her, tears streaming down her face.

“I think you enjoyed that more than you’d like to admit,” Boscha says, dipping her fingers into Luz’s swollen, dripping center. 

Luz curses her body’s traitorous reaction. She really doesn’t remember feeling aroused while eating out Boscha and trying to think about Amity,  _ her friend _ , instead, but stranger things have happened, she supposes.

Boscha slips her wet fingers into Luz’s mouth without much resistance. Turning to address Amity for the first time, Boscha radiates smugness as she says, “Aren’t you jealous?”

Amity shakes her head, still crying wordlessly.

Luz tries to tell her it’ll be okay, but the fingers in her mouth really impede a lot of movement.

Boscha withdraws her hand and examines her nails. “Hey, Luz?”

“Yeah?” Luz chokes out.

“Wanna know who Amity has a crush on?”

_ Yes _ . “No,” she says determinedly.

“No!” Amity shrieks, raising her head and struggling twice as hard. “Boscha, you fucking bitch! You—! You  _ bitch _ ! You can’t! You fucking can’t!”

“I was asking Luz,” Boscha says, so casually, conversationally.

Luz is frozen solid. It’s like a dream.

Boscha sighs, shifting her weight so that she’s hugging Luz from behind, facing Amity on the ground of the Grudgby court. She draws a glyph idly, changing her nails to long, wicked claws. Luz chokes in fear. She draws another glyph while Amity pants and sobs and screams. Luz looks away. 

“Ooh, these are nice!” Boscha finally squeals, brandishing long, sinewy, elegant fingers twice as long as her normal ones.

“Boscha… please…” Amity cries. 

“Amity, it’s okay!” Luz quickly reassures. “I promise I won’t judge you, no matter who you’re crushing on.”

Boscha laughs. “Silly, stupid, human.”

She caresses the underside of Luz’s chin with her abnormally long fingers. A shiver travels through Luz’s entire body.

“Did you know…” Boscha purrs into Luz’s ear. “Amity Blight has fallen off her throne for a girl so stupid, so oblivious…”

Luz’s heart stops.  _ A girl? Amity likes girls? _

Boscha breaches her entrance but retreats just as quickly, teasing and tracing circles on Luz’s inner thighs.

“Boscha, don’t…” Amity says weakly, almost halfheartedly.

“You still haven’t figured it out, human?” Boscha drawls. “Wow, I do feel so sorry for Amity… falling for lowly little Luz, who doesn’t return her feelings and isn’t even smart enough to realize her best friend is pining.”

Luz stops breathing. There’s  _ no way _ she could have heard that correctly.  _ Me? _

Amity drops her head, blush spreading shamefully down her neck. As Luz looks at her, wisps of green hair hiding her face, arms bound behind her back by Skara, kneeling with thighs slightly parted and sweat and tears running down her skin, she thinks that she’s never seen anything so beautiful before. 

“Now,” Boscha breathes. “I fucking told you, Amity Blight. I told you you’d regret crossing me.”

Fingers sink into Luz once more, and she can’t help a shaky moan. Amity’s head snaps up, golden eyes staring right into Luz’s apologetic eyes.

“I’m going to fuck her right in front of you, Amity,” Boscha says with a voice of steel. “I’m going to touch her so deeply, she’ll never forget how I feel inside her.” 

To punctuate her words, Boscha’s elongated fingers dance and stretch deep, deep inside Luz. 

“Maybe if you make it up to me later, I’ll give her back to you when I’m done using her,” Boscha laughs, languidly swirling her fingers. Luz pants, mouth open, chest heaving wildly. Boscha’s fingers keep brushing electric spots inside her and curling forward to caress the uneven ridges that—ah—make her melt completely. Through the entire ordeal, her gaze never leaves Amity, whose face still streams tears. 

“Oh, but Amity, you’ll never live up to me,” Boscha continues ruthlessly. “Even if the two of you become the sickeningly sappy girlfriends you’re sure to be, you’ll both remember this moment forever—you, the blithering cuckold of a Blight, and she, the  _ spoiled goods _ .”

Amity sobs, but her voice catches and becomes a moan. By this time, Boscha’s friends have released her arms, but she stays on her knees, transfixed by the sight of her former friend fucking her crush without mercy.

Luz waits for more cruel words as Boscha stretches her, grinds against her, works her helpless body in all the right ways, but none come. Instead, Boscha kisses up her neck. Instinctively, Luz tips to the side to let her have more access, shivering. 

“I love your round ears,” Boscha purrs, her breath tickling right in Luz’s ear. “They’re soooo exotic.”

She swirls her tongue around Luz’s earring, tracing up and down her earlobe. Luz breathes, heavy and fast. Amity bites her lip, face unreadable, knees shaking. The tension in the air is beyond palpable. Inside Luz’s soaked underwear, Boscha’s fingers fly into a frenzy, increasing the pace until Luz can barely bear it. As she throws her head back and keens, Boscha bites down, hard, on her earlobe.

For a moment, all is silent in Luz’s world. Blood rushes through her head, pain lances through her ear, and pleasure seizes her entire body as she comes harder than she ever has before in her life. 

She comes to, shaking and lying on the pitch, which is empty except for a solitary figure crouched over her. Boscha’s cruel laughter echoes in the distance.

“Luz,” Amity says, enveloping her in a hug. “Luz, we need to talk.”


	2. Amity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just three girls, talking about their feelings and working through some angst and trauma. No smut, because that would be inappropriate.

Amity is terrified that she’s doing something wrong. Maybe she’s hugging Luz too tightly. Or not tightly enough. Is Luz okay? Maybe Luz isn’t ready to talk yet. She can’t even see her face. All she knows is that her own heart is breaking, and she’s terrified, and she’s hurt. Well, hurt doesn’t even begin to cover it. Amity can’t even muster up the rage to hate Boscha, because all she knows is pain and grief and Luz.

“Y-yeah, we can talk,” Luz stutters, curling her body into Amity.  _ Thank goodness _ .

“I’m so sorry,” Amity whispers. She refuses to let go, partly because she doesn’t want Luz to feel like she’s being relinquished, and partly because she’s too scared to look directly at Luz. 

“I’m okay,” Luz promises.

Amity feels all cried out, but her heart is so heavy she wishes she could cry more. “Why did you give in?”

“I did it to protect you, Amity!” Luz exclaims. “You and Willow. I couldn’t let Boscha hurt you.”

_ I don’t need protecting. I don’t deserve protecting. I should have protected you. Been your fearless champion instead. Boscha is bitter because of me. And Willow. Not you, Luz.  _

Amity doesn’t say any of it out loud. Everything feels wrong. Everything feels so, so wrong, like it was never meant to happen this way, and Amity hates what she’s about to say and the circumstances under which she needs to confess, but it would be worse not to acknowledge what Boscha revealed.

“Luz, I like you. I might be falling for you.”

Luz doesn’t say anything, but holds her tighter. 

The next five seconds pass agonizingly slowly for Amity. 

“Luz… please say something.”

Amity can feel Luz shaking, and she’s terrified of what it might mean—laughter? rejection? shock? tears?—but she understands when Luz unwinds from her and presses their foreheads together, starting to cry for the first time.

“Amity, how can you say that,” she sobs. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” Amity declares fervently. 

“It can’t be,” Luz says. “No one could ever like me in that way.”

“I do,” Amity replies.

Luz pauses for a moment, her eyes slowly searching Amity’s for some new revelation that doesn’t come. Amity doesn’t even know what her own eyes are revealing. Luz’s voice grows somewhat desperate, like she’s trying to convince herself of something. “Even… even if you did… I can’t possibly return it.”

Amity’s heart sinks in sorrow. It’s her worst fear, coming true, in the worst way possible.

“Not because I don’t like you! Because… I… I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel about you, Amity. I don’t know how to… love… or, well, even like someone properly.”

“Luz, it doesn’t need to be properly—”

“I couldn’t protect you at Grom. I couldn’t even protect your feelings from Boscha. I’m not qualified for anyone to trust me. I can’t think about… being there romantically for anyone right now.”

Amity swallows slowly. “That’s okay. Take all the time you need,” she says. “But the protecting thing? It’s not your fault. It’s not your responsibility to protect anyone but yourself. You didn’t need to do any of this for me… it was  _ traumatic _ for you! I should be the one apologizing.”

Luz is silent for a moment. Amity almost groans aloud when Luz chooses to circumvent the difficult topic entirely, burying her head in Amity’s shoulder to avoid direct eye contact and asking instead: “Is it true what Boscha said? That you two…”

Amity inhales. There’s no way around this. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

“Oh.”

“Luz, it was when we were fifteen and experimenting, and then it happened for a while, but I stopped after… this school year started.”

“Oh. Yeah, okay. Hm.”

“Luz… are you… do you hate me for that?”

“Oh… of course not. I could never hate you, Amity.”

Amity hates the fact that she doesn’t know what Luz is really thinking. There’s so much being unsaid, and she’s so  _ bad _ at dealing with subtext and undertones and insinuations, she needs to talk out this tangle with Luz so badly, but—

“LUZ! Amity, what happened?”

Willow has chosen one of the worst possible opportunities to barge in. Amity wrestles down her instincts to snap at her. She knows Willow means well. Willow has always meant well. That’s what she’s always loved about Willow. Wait, no—

“Amity, I came as soon as I heard. Boscha came to me to brag about beating you two in ‘all the ways,’ whatever that means, and I was worried that she might have gone beyond Grudgby and seriously hurt you…”

Luz lets go of Amity and stands up on shaky legs, pulling up her shorts gingerly. “It’s okay, Willow,” she says bravely. “I protected you and Amity, and that’s what matters.”

Willow squints at her friend in disbelief. She sighs and turns to Amity, looking at her closely through the thick lenses of her glasses. “Something happened, didn’t it, Amity.”

It’s a statement. Willow knows just as well as Amity does that Luz is much more affected than she’s letting on.

“Yeah,” Amity concurs quietly. “Boscha… she took it too far. She… violated Luz.”

Willow’s eyes flare green and her fists clench. “She  _ WHAT? _ ”

She whirls around to Luz. “ _ Did she really dare?! _ ”

Luz holds up her hands placatingly. “Yeah, but it’s okay, Willow, it wasn’t too bad, I was just protec—”

“LUZ!”

Said girl flinches, and Willow instantly softens, murmuring apologies. “Oh—hey, no, sorry, Luz, I didn’t mean to yell. I just… please don’t say another thing about protecting, to Amity or to me. You didn’t  _ need _ to suffer for either of us, you know that, right?”

Luz looks down.

Amity bites her lip. “You… know that, right, Luz? That we wouldn’t ask anything of you?”

Luz gives a little half shrug and turns away from Amity and Willow. “I… I’m fine, guys. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Wait—” Amity starts to say, putting out a hand. The conversation is so, so, unfinished, its edges raw and bloody with torn emotions and unhealed trauma. Amity wishes, more than anything, to be let in to witness Luz’s broken interior and help her patch up the pieces, to keep her safe. But Willow places a strong hand on her shoulder. 

“Let her go. She probably needs some time alone right now.”

It’s heartbreaking for Amity to watch Luz’s retreating figure scamper across the Grudgby field and disappear into the distance. So, instead, she turns and buries her face into Willow’s soft chest, wrapping her arms around her broad shoulders. She feels a hand delicately stroking her hair. 

Willow smells like dirt, but in a good, rich way. She’s probably just come from the greenhouse, after all. She also smells like she did in their childhood, kind of fresh and lush but also flowery and sweet. It’s unbelievably comforting for Amity. It’s also rekindling some very confusing feelings. She’d better ignore those.

“Willow,” she croaks, voice horrifically hoarse. She withdraws a bit to clear her throat to the side a couple of times, embarrassed. She tries again, whispering. “Willow.”

She can hear the sad smile in Willow’s voice when she responds, “Yes, Amity?”

“I… I have a crush on Luz.”

“I know.”

“You—you do?!”

“I’m not blind, Amity. Plus, I know all your tells. I know you.”

Amity blushes. 

“Oh. Well, Boscha told Luz… during the rape.”

Willow tenses. Amity can feel her muscles go stiff, still cradling her like a precious, fragile treasure, strong but trembling with fury. “I’m going to kill her.”

Amity sighs, pressing her hand against Willow’s chest and looking up into her face for the first time. “You can’t. You couldn’t get away with murder, not like Boscha.”

“I can try.”

“Willow, no. I don’t want her to retaliate and hurt you too.”

“Amity, I said this to Luz and I’ll say this to you. Stop trying to protect me. I’m not a half-witch anymore! I can protect you too.”

Amity swallows. The emotional scars she inflicted on Willow long ago are clearly a part of her identity, and they may never fade. “Willow, I’m just scared, and I’m sorry.”

She takes a deep breath. Willow waits patiently for her to continue.

_ Okay, I just need to say what I mean. Say what I’ve been bottling up all these years. What I wanted to say to Willow when I was in her head. _

“I’m sorry because of what I said. I told you, the problem was never you. It was always me. And I’m scared because Boscha steals everything from me. The first girl that I ever liked… I fucked up her self-confidence just to win over Boscha, and I thought I was protecting her, but I hurt her worse than I could have ever imagined. And so, Boscha stole you from me, first you, yeah, and now Luz, and I don’t—”

“Wait. Hold on.” Willow says, slowly but firmly, like she’s arriving at the edge of some great epiphany. “Amity… you liked… me?”

Amity laughs. There’s just been… too much today. Too many secrets revealed, too many things experienced, too many connections and revisitations of the past, and she feels like she’s just officially lost the ability to be serious.

“Willow, you seem pretty blind, for someone who claims to know my tells.”

She smiles up at her old crush, new tears (mostly of confusion and too many conflicting feelings) welling up in her eyes. Willow stares down at her, face surprised and altogether neutral, lips slightly parted. 

Amity’s heart beats wildly. There’s a brief second where her brain goes,  _ oh, this might as well happen, I guess, eleven-year-old me would be so thrilled right now _ , before their lips meet. Amity doesn’t even really know how it happened, just that… one of them leans in, or maybe they both do, maybe unconsciously, maybe not, and now she’s kissing Willow, the girl of her dreams she’s been fantasizing about for years… before Luz came along.

Willow’s lips are soft but forceful, pliant but strong, just like her, and  _ oh, fuck, Luz! _

As if having the same thought, they stumble apart. 

“Amity, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t take advantage of you with your emotional trauma just because I found out you liked me back—”

“Willow, I’m so sorry, it’s just that Luz just rejected me and it’s all my fault and I’m so confused and I don’t know how I feel anymore—”

“—and Luz is my best friend, and I’ve been shipping you two since I saw you blush for her inside my head, so I don’t know  _ what  _ I’m even doing here—”

“—about you  _ or _ her, actually, because my feelings for you never went away, but now there’s Luz, and I’m too confused right now to understand myself—”

Willow is the first to stop rambling. She wraps her hands around Amity’s (oh. Wow. Big hands. Very… firm grip. Wow.) and says, slowly and reassuringly: “Amity. It’s okay.  _ I’m _ sorry, and I’ll back off and give you space to think. I know you and Luz both went through something very traumatic today, and you’ll both need time to come to terms with everything. In the meantime, just leave everything to me, and I’ll protect you, okay?”

Amity sighs in relief. Alone time is just what she needs to clear her spinning head. Alone time and a nap. After a nap this will all feel better. She takes a deep breath.

“Okay, Willow. I trust you.”


	3. Willow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow seeks revenge. Or is it justice? Maybe it's all the same to her. 
> 
> Warning: this one's kind of dark, like the first chapter but with minor mentions of blood/minor injuries.

Willow considers herself down-to-earth. Sure, sometimes jealousy and resentment can get the better of her, and she lets off steam by growing giant plant monsters, yelling a lot, and then talking out her feelings with her creations before settling back down into neutrality. But Willow doesn’t do rash things. 

That’s why it’s a surprise even to herself when Willow realizes she’s been stalking Boscha in the woods for half an hour, preparing for the perfect moment to strike. 

Granted, the time has passed quickly while she’s been pondering Amity and Luz. Willow isn’t someone who lets feelings hold her back. However, it’s kind of hard to stand by that when she doesn’t even know what the feelings are. Sometimes she wonders if she’s demiromantic. Every time she befriends a girl and gets really emotionally close to her (well, every  _ two _ times Willow has done that), she starts feeling these… kind of crushy, fluttery feelings. Is it platonic? Is it romantic? Who can say? She doesn’t know. But she knows she loves them. Amity Blight and Luz Noceda.

Of course, after the whole… Amity disaster… when they were young, Willow has repressed those particular feelings. It doesn’t mean they’ve died out, though. So much time has passed between then and now, and Willow is no fool: she knows that both she and Amity have changed so much since they were best friends. They’re more like strangers at this point in time. But she really meant it when she told Amity, “It’s a start.” 

She thinks she could grow to love the new Amity again. Luz already seems to, even if she herself doesn’t know it yet. Willow doesn’t know a lot about human customs ( _ would Luz let us both love her? _ ), but she can be patient. She can wait. Amity and Luz are the most important people to her, and she loves them on a fiercer, deeper level than any other friends she’s made.

Boscha, on the other hand? Oh, Boscha’s gonna  _ die _ for hurting both her loves. 

There she is now, walking alone and unsupervised through the woods. Willow sends her consciousness deep into the earth, searching for the tendril seeds she planted ahead of time for the trap. They tremble under the light stroke of her mind and begin to germinate. 

Willow’s consciousness is mostly plant and not very human right now, but she can still feel her own fingers pressing into the dirt and be dimly aware of Boscha’s hazy figure passing in front of the bush where her body kneels crouched and waiting. 

Boscha trudges through the woods hunched over, her cylindrical school bag slung over her shoulder. She has zero business looking like a normal, hapless, downtrodden Hexside junior when she’s just  _ assaulted Willow’s best friend, emotionally abused Willow’s… Amity, and bragged about it to Willow’s face _ .

Willow trembles in rage just thinking about it, and her burgeoning tendrils begin to froth out of the earth. 

Boscha doesn’t notice the vines wrapping around her feet at first, but it all becomes clear when Willow gives a harsh yank and tugs her, flailing and upside down, into the air. Boscha’s pink hair streams down, pristine bun coming undone. She yelps. 

“What the—hang on…  _ plant girl!  _ I know it’s you! What the fuck!”

Willow makes no response.  _ Boscha isn’t worth my conversation. _

Instead, she concentrates on embodying the undergrowth, becoming one with the verdure slowly snaking around Boscha and stretching her limbs out. The tell-tale beginnings of sweat begin to prick under her skin as Willow strains with her magic, but, oh, this is just the start.

As Boscha’s bag falls to the ground and she finds herself suspended horizontally, legs stretched wide apart, Boscha really starts to panic. With a quick flick of her wrist, a fire sizzles to life over her right palm. Before she can apply it, though, Willow counters with a quick tendril that whips around Boscha’s wrists, yanking them above her head and twisting around and around until her hands are solidly stuck with no room to maneuver or draw spell circles. The flame dancing in her palm fizzles out. Boscha tries to kick and scream.

“Seriously, you four-eyed nerd, this isn’t fucking funny!”

Willow chews on her lip in concentration, sending more of herself into the plants, carefully dividing her attention between the cluster of flowers that bloom to life in Boscha’s mouth, cutting off her desperate shouts, and the ivy that twines almost lovingly up her calf, searching for a way in.

Boscha’s thrashing dies down to pitiful heaves. Willow relishes the fear she can almost tangibly feel.  _ Let’s see how you like it when justice catches up to you. _

Flower petals flutter to the forest floor. Boscha spits them out, gasping for air, but Willow forces more to blossom in their place. 

“S...stop, half-a-w—”

Willow barely even hears it. Her mind is a seething, furious tangle of protective undergrowth. Honestly, this is the most complicated feat of magic she’s ever attempted, but it’s all worth the strain she can feel building in her forehead when her thorns rip through Boscha’s clothes, scratching skin in the process, and Willow  _ senses _ rather than sees the tears pouring down her face and spilling onto her plants. 

Boscha gags and twists around partly to spit another mass of petals. 

“Willow—”

At the mention of her name, Willow pauses. This is the first time she can recall Boscha calling her by name, possibly  _ ever _ in their whole hostile history. This warrants a conversation, she supposes. But she won’t stop teasing and torturing Boscha with her plants.

She carefully emerges from the bushes. “Boscha.”

“Why are you doing this?” Boscha’s voice is a hoarse whisper, and she strains to lift her head up, looking at Willow and her glowing green eyes. “You’re taking this too far.”

Willow laughs.  _ As if she doesn’t know _ .

“Boscha, you were the one who took it too far. You raped my best friend.”

Boscha sniffles. “Well, she kinda liked it… I didn’t scratch her with fucking thorns.”

“That’s not an excuse!” Willow’s eyes flash. “You hurt her badly. Amity, too. You might have a rivalry with us, but there was  _ no reason _ at all for you to do that.”

“That’s not true!” Boscha shrieks, struggling again. Tears fall hot and heavy from her eyes. They land wet and scorching on Willow’s plants, which still trace over her body, groping heavily and clumsily. 

“Then tell me what’s wrong with you,” Willow snarls. “Tell me what is wrong in your twisted little mind, what could possibly drive you to be such a horrible bitch to everyone in your life, what could make you such a morally reprehensible witch who—”

She trails off, breathing heavily. Willow just might have overestimated her own ability to deliver a harsh invective while also wielding advanced plant magic. Already, she can feel her control wavering—it might be easy to let the magic explode through her and lash out freely, but she forces herself to keep a tight control on it. 

“No!” Boscha yells. “No, I do have a good reason, but—”

Willow’s ears are ringing. “ _ There is no good reason that would excuse what you did. _ ”

With a blinding fury that wipes out any possible remorse she could feel, Willow slams a vine straight into Boscha. To her distaste and annoyance, she can tell that Boscha is achingly wet, yielding without much resistance.  _ I wish it could have hurt her more. Pervert. _

Boscha does double over, or at least try to, given her bodily restrictions, though Willow doesn’t know what for. Small whimpers and squeaks tear out of her mouth, and the scratches along her body gleam satisfyingly red. 

“A-amity,” Boscha gasps. “It’s because of—ah… Willow… because Ami—mmm… Luz.”

“That fucking does it,” Willow fumes. She really doesn’t swear most of the time, but. Holy fuck. This girl brings out the worst in her. “You have no right to say their names. You have no right to feel  _ good _ about any of this.”

Boscha has the audacity to moan. Well, it actually sounds like it’s ripped from her throat against her will, but to a seething Willow, it’s an abject mockery of her careful efforts at vengeance. She withdraws all of herself from her plants—and Boscha—and stumbles, barely catching herself before she falls. Boscha isn’t so lucky. She falls about the length of her own height to the forest floor, landing with an audible thump and a crack. 

Filled with savage pleasure, Willow inhales deeply and dusts herself off. “Consider us even and neutral now, Boscha. I suggest you refrain from escalating this further, think about your actions, and do some serious soul-searching.”

She turns and leaves the clearing, not even looking at the witch she leaves behind on the ground.  _ See who’s powerless now.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit that I originally wanted to make this series just complete smut for the sake of being hot and dirty. However, the darkness and angst have seduced me, and now there are complex EMOTIONS. Ugh.


	4. Boscha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Boscha's chapter. What does Boscha think of Willow, Amity, and Luz anyway? 
> 
> Trigger warnings: rape aftermath, depictions of pain (broken leg & cuts), slightly suicidal thoughts, lots of emotions, Luz being too forgiving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to m3mfish on Instagram, TalistoShipper16 on Ao3, and the people who donated to me on ko-fi for giving me the motivation and support I needed to get this chapter out. Seriously. Thank you so much. Your comments mean the world to me, and I love you.

Boscha lets herself wallow and cry for a bit. After all, it’s not every day that you find out just how much people hate you.  _ It’s okay to be hated, as long as you’re feared. _

Somehow, she just can’t convince herself of that philosophy right now. Her skin is stinging, she feels rather wretched and quite a bit violated, and worst of all, she feels mostly numb to the worst bruising her pride has possibly ever received.  _ What the fuck. I just got assaulted by fucking weakass leaf girl. It was really fucking unexpected. I was scared out of my fucking mind. I… I didn’t enjoy that. I hated that. I fucking hated that! _

She hates Willow. She hates Willow for being so magically strong, for being physically strong, too, for having visible muscles, for actually being  _ good _ at shit, for being so likable, for her stupid little hair clip, for the way Amity looks at her, for the absolute… undeniable  _ hotness _ of Willow’s dark, bitter laugh. 

Boscha tries to draw her knees up to her chest, shivering, but her leg flares in agony. Her desperate, shallow breaths can’t seem to provide her with enough oxygen as she almost blacks out from the pain.  _ Jeez, this is even worse than that time Amity’s Grudgby stunt sprained my ankle. It’s gotta be fucking broken. I landed on it weird. _

Honestly, Amity has always had the capacity for great stupidity. Boscha just can’t believe she’d stoop so low as to ditch  _ her _ , Childhood Friend and Best Bitch Boscha, for some cringey human and… Willow. Like,  _ damn _ . Doesn’t Amity learn at all?

Boscha remembers the first time she realized she was crushing on Amity. Amity Blight was the first person whose feelings she’d really cared about, who she’d tried to protect, even when they were, like, seven. The two of them had never really hung out before, and Boscha never really remembered why, but she did remember this one time when she and Amity were sitting on the ground together and throwing grass at each other while giggling, and then Willow had come up to them and started saying stuff (Boscha didn’t exactly remember what was said), and then Amity had started  _ crying _ . 

In that moment, little kid Boscha had felt a surge of protective fury like never before. Amity was just so fucking pretty and fragile when she cried, and Boscha hated every second of it. She had vowed, then and there, to hate Willow forever on behalf of Amity. How dare this  _ other girl _ make her Amity cry. Boscha was the one who stuck by Amity and defended her their whole lives. They were supposed to always be together, to always have each other’s backs, to rule Hexside and conquer the world together, no one else. Yeah. When they were seven, she even proposed to Amity. And Amity had giggled and said yes. 

Boscha cries. Betrayal? Losing people? Especially losing them to people you hate, people you thought they hated too… that hurts like a bitch. Almost as much as getting cut open with thorns by your arch-nemesis. 

Her back aches. She doesn’t dare change her position, though, for fear of setting off the excruciating pain in her leg again. Whatever. Dirt is probably gonna infect her cuts and she’s gonna straight up die half-naked in the forest for all she fucking cares. 

_ Great! At least now I can be alone with my stupid fucking thoughts until I die. _

Being the reason Amity cried… Boscha kind of hates herself for it. That same beautiful, fragile expression in those golden eyes she swore to protect, the absolute shattering behind them over  _ Luz—what does that fucking human have that I don’t? Why was Amity so obsessed with her during Grom? Everything was fine until she showed up I’m gonna fucking kill her she took MY Amity. _

Deep breaths. Getting worked up sends hot blood pounding through her, and her leg twinges painfully. Deep breaths. It’s terrifying how much things are changing, all because of the presence of one puny little human. Like, after Luz arrived on the Boiling Isles, everyone’s all astir over the  _ human _ and the  _ Owl Lady _ and her stupid little paper glyphs, and even Half-a-Witch thinks it’s somehow okay to undo all of Boscha’s hard work with the intimidation and the threats, thinks it’s okay to approach Amity again. 

Worst of all, beneath Willow’s adorable chubby cheeks and sunny disposition is something Boscha recognizes: a bitterness and ruthlessness she loves and cherishes herself. She hates how much she’s drawn to it, to something so close to her own heart, how she feels something akin to, well, intense arousal when the two of them grapple for control. 

_ If I’m going to die, at least I can die knowing I fucked Luz and got fucked by Willow. _

Not to mention her most cherished memory of falling into bed with Amity last year. Ugh, things had been so  _ simple _ back then, no meddling humans or four-eyed losers, just those delicate golden eyes peering up at her shyly as Amity kissed her way down her body. Just two girls who happened to be best friends, uncertain about exactly how they liked each other but sure that they did like each other in some way, throwing themselves at each other with the eagerness and hungry innocence of a first time. 

The last time. An endless stream of tears blurs Boscha’s vision.  _ Stupid fucking feels. _ And she can’t even stop crying, which is stupid. And embarrassing. Her mind flinches back to the fury, betrayal, and despair in Amity’s voice—against  _ her _ —and she sobs, turning her face into the dirt. Like, she thought giving in to her rage against Luz would make her feel better, but it didn’t. In fact, she’s never felt more alone.

The sun dips low in the sky. In a haze of defeat and pain, Boscha drifts in and out of turmoil-filled sleep. Sometimes she wakes up and screams herself hoarse in rage and regret. 

_ It’s not fair… this is way beyond teen angst. I’m only sixteen and the universe wants to torture me slowly to death. It’s not FAIR. Why did the universe make Luz’s life so perfect? _

Even more unfairly, Boscha begins to experience an auditory hallucination of Luz calling her name. 

“Leave me alone,” she groans into the ground, eyes pressed firmly shut. “I want to die in peace, without your stupid voice in my fucking head.”

“You’re hurt.”

“I knowww. Fuck off. This is, like, the shittiest thing I could hallucinate. Total guilt trip.”

“Boscha, you’re being dramatic. I’m not a hallucination. And I don’t care what you did to me, because no one deserves to be left like this. I’m going to help you, okay?”

Warm arms encircle her and lift, and Boscha snaps her eyes open because there’s no way she could imagine something this real. Besides, her leg dangles, bent by gravity, and it feels like a thousand red-hot splinters are driving into her flesh from the inside. When her worst fears are confirmed—yep, it’s Luz Noceda, alright—her instinct is to screech and claw and shove and yell in anger: “I don’t need your help!”

The next instant, she registers the sting of the gouges in her forearms as her skin stretches in the sudden movement, and her protest turns into a pained shriek. 

Luz looks at her with something akin to pity. “Willow did this to you because of me.”

Boscha doesn’t know how to reply. She can’t get a read on Luz or her tone at all, and all her words are suppressed behind the pained hiss forced through her gritted teeth. Boscha can feel her lip starting to bleed where her fang punctures it with the force of her clenched jaw.

Sighing, Luz scoops her up in her arms, slinging Boscha’s discarded bag over her shoulder. Boscha hesitantly loops her arms around the human’s neck. Luz is much harder to hate when she’s being so fucking nice even after… everything.

“You should hate me,” Boscha whispers.

Luz sighs. “I don’t.”

“You  _ should _ .”

“Boscha, I’m not trying to be your enemy.”

Luz gazes into the distance determinedly, her lips pressed together. Boscha can feel the strain in her arms, the extra effort Luz uses to keep a level pace and not jostle her injured passenger. A warm glow surrounds her face, backlit by the sunset. There’s something brave and sad and earnest about her expression, and Boscha  _ doesn’t understand. _

Then, suddenly, she does understand—well, she understands why Amity loves Luz so much. Something in her shifts, like years of hard edges and fast breaths and sharp retorts melt into raw openness. Suddenly, she can’t run from her emotions anymore, and the last vestiges of the numbness protecting her emotionally collapse.

“Luz, I’m sorry,” she sobs, burying her face into Luz’s shoulder. 

The shoulder tenses. Then, Luz relaxes. Her grip on Boscha’s waist and thigh tightens a bit reassuringly.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, and I’m so fucking sorry.”

Luz doesn’t reply. Boscha doesn’t know if it’s because she agrees or because she doesn’t want to argue. Either way, she can’t stand to look at Luz, her stomach hurts with mighty swoops of shame, and she just wants to keep her face hidden in Luz’s body and maybe die there. Maybe if she dies, Amity won’t hate her as much. Maybe if she dies, all of them won’t hate her as much.

She tells Luz her address somewhere along the way, but she blacks out in her arms before she gets home. 

When Boscha wakes up again, she’s bandaged and reclining on her own bed, completely alone in the dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third part of this series is still being written!


End file.
